A prayer for death

She stared out of the window, looking at the setting sun changing its colours and showering across the sea various shades of crimson. A tear rolled down her icy white wrinkled skin from her colourless eyes which seemed to be filled with thought and sorrow. She clenched her teethless jaws together and she shut her crumpled eyes tight. Her mind ran back into the past and she drowned herself into the oceans of the past. Those horrid but very vivid memories came back to her as though they had freshly taken place. Her mind reversed fifty-nine years into the past where she experienced one of the most inhuman activities of the world.

It was the month of July. Hiroshima was warm with a tinge of humidity in the air . Doctor Huts Nakamura stood near her kitchen window packing some botamochi: sweet rice dumpling with bean sauce for her daughter to take to school. It was around six in the morning. Her husband left her two years back and since then she lived a life of a widow and her life since then only revolved around her daughter, Mohawk. Mohawk was ten years of age and studied in the City Grammer School. She was a petite girl with the most amazing big grey eyes. Her poker straight shiny black hair was tied back into a thick braid and she had adorned her blue and white striped knee length uniform. “Hahaoya,” she called her mother, “is my lunch box ready?”
“Hai, darling. Here you go. Put this in your bag and let’s go.” They walked to the Yokogawa Station which was five minutes away from the house. “Hahaoya” said Mohawk. “Do not come to fetch me from school because Mrs. Yakamako will drop me since she wants to meet you.” Huts nodded and gave her daughter a smile. A loud horn in the background disrupted the silence in the air which was till now only occupied by the moving trains. A coloured bus came to a screeching halt right in front of them. The door opened and a friendly looking conductor popped his head out and ushered Mohawk inside. For some strange reason today Huts did not want to let her daughter go. She feared something which was not right was going to occur today. Her mind was in some sort of turmoil. On one side she termed this feeling as idiocy on the other hand she thought she should have listened to her mind and not let her daughter go.

As she was walking back home she heard a warning siren. A shiver shot down her spine. “Oh my goodness we are under attack,” she thought. “Oh Tentei please take care of Mohawk.” She prayed as she ran for shelter. The siren cut short and relieved she emerged out of her hiding thanking God for answering her prayer.

She reached home and made some tea. She had taken an off from the hospital today. Huts sat in her veranda sipping her jasmine tea. The sun had completely risen by now and it seemed to be promising a pleasant and calm day. She laughed at her earlier intuition but little did she know that this day would be completely different and would not only change her life but also the life of the entire country.

The morning was still, warm and beautiful. The shimmering leaves reflected the sunlight from the cloudless sky. She was admiring the environment around her when suddenly, a strong flash of light startled her and automatically her hands rose to shield her eyes. The stone lantern in the garden lit up brilliantly. She debated whether this light was caused by a magnesium flare or sparks from a passing trolley.

Where a moment before the view had been bright and sunny was now dark and hazy. Through the swirling dust she could see a huge mushroom shaped cloud of smoke form in the sky. The wooden pillars of her house were leaning crazily and the roof sagged dangerously. She moved instinctively, and tried to escape, but the rubble and the fallen timbers barred the way. She fought her way through the debris and ran out into the garden. A profound weakness overcame her. She stopped to regain her strength. Very reluctantly she turned back to have a look at the pile of shattered debris which was sometime ago her house. She looked down in despair and noticed torn pieces of cloth attached to her arms. Huts, in total agony was wondering what happened which not only destroyed her house but also shredded her clothes. When she glanced again she noticed that it wasn’t cloth which hung loose on her hands but it was, her own flesh. To her surprise she discovered that she was almost naked. “How odd!” She thought, “Where is my kimono?”

The right side of her body was cut and bleeding. A large splinter was protruding from a mangled wound in her leg, and something warm trickled into her mouth. Her cheek was torn and her lower lip cut. Embedded in her neck was a glass fragment which she managed to remove. After she regained her strength she got a sudden brain wave and thought, “My daughter, Mohawk. Oh gracious Tentei please save her.” Saying this she scrambled onto the road and walked towards her daughters school.

In thirty minutes or so she reached her daughters school only to be devastated to see it in crumbles. Teachers and students were trying to get out of the debris while ambulances from the red cross hospital surrounded the place. “My daughter, where is she?” She thought and yelled, “MOHAWK, where are you my baby.’

Blood began to spurt. A vein in her neck had been cut. “Would I bleed to death?” Frightened and irrationally she thought and called out for her daughter once more. A pale and frightened Mohawk appeared staggering towards her. Her clothes were torn and blood stained. The very sight of seeing her reassured Huts that her daughter was alive but yet her heart weakened at the sight of her daughter. The poor little thing was exhausted and in pain. She took her daughter into her arms and ignoring her panicked mind she assured her daughter of life. “We'll be all right,” she exclaimed. The minute she said this Mohawk dropped unconscious into her mothers arm. Huts heart pounded and she quickly reached out for her daughters wrist to feel her pulse. “She is alive” she sighed in relief.

She accumulated all her strength and she carried her to the nearest hospital. She had to make much effort from not stumbling. Tears rolled down her cheeks. An overpowering thirst seized her but she ignored it as she ignored her naked state. She couldn’t think beyond her daughter, her only reason for living. Her journey to the hospital was horribly slow. Suddenly the clot on her leg got dislodged and blood started spurting out again from there. She stopped in her tracks and tore out a piece of cloth from her daughters ragged uniform and tied it tightly onto the wound.

It was like a nightmare. Her movements were slow but time of life seemed to be passing fast and her mind running was racing. She didn’t want to think of the possible but it was the only thing that kept hitting her.

She finally reached the hospital. There were shadowy forms of people walking like scarecrows, their arms held out from their bodies with forearms and hands dangling. They had been burned. A naked woman came into her view. She averted her gaze. It occurred to her that some strange thing had deprived them of their clothes. Suddenly from the back someone called her. It was a ward boy. Through him she got to know that the hospital was in a bad state and going in would be useless. She got up to fetch for medical aid but something stopped her. From the time her daughter had fainted till now, Mohawk had held on tightly to her finger. Huts eyes welled up and her heart formed a lump in a throat. She bent down and held her hand. Her worst fears had come true. The world around her shattered into pieces. Huts clutched onto her daughter tightly and cried her lungs out. “I couldn’t save my daughter. What use is being a doctor when I cant save my own daughter. Oh Tentei you have taken my Mohawk from me, now take me.” She wailed but there was no one to sympathise with her. Her entire world turned hollow. She dropped unconscious as though dead but unfortunately she wasn’t.

The traumatic episode she experienced fifty-nine years back never left her thoughts. The hapless and pale face of Mohawk still revolved around her eyes. She opened her eyes. Her leg had been amputated and her face was disfigured. Her body was small and seemed lifeless. She prayed to Tentei hoping he would answer her prayer today. Her eyes closed.

Walking on

I walk…
Leaving the past behind.
Envision a future,
Which will be only mine.

Burn the memories that haunted my head
Detach from those who left me stranded
Forget those regrets and resentments
And awaken to the light ahead.

But before I move on
To the new horizon that calls upon
I look back one last time
To see the trail of ashes, I leave behind.

The black path, is now just dust
But there still remains a certain glow.
In the ashes of the past, that lay before
Remained a few cinders of memories that glowed with warmth

I walk behind, one last time
Picking those cinders,
Etching them in my mind.
Leave the ashes, leave the past
Turn around and walk on….

A poem on Female Infanticide

She is the creator,
It’s through her that life evolves.
She is a caretaker,
Thanks to her a house is a home.
She is the epitome of love,
And sacrifice, perseverance and strength.
Yet she is looked down upon,
Yet she is tortured and made to mourn,
Yet she isn’t given her worth,
Yet she is killed before her birth.
Before she sees the world around,
Before a tear can even crawl down,
Before she has taken her first step,
Before she could breathe her first breath.

She could have grown up to be someone big,
A Kiran Bedi or a Madhuri Dixit.
A child prodigy she could have become,
But she wasn’t even given that one chance.

We closed her eyes and along with it ours.
We ignored the reality and lived in beliefs of the past.
“Why burden ourselves?” Is what we thought,
When killing that tiny little tot.
Not once did we weep,
Not once did our heart bleed.
We just witnessed the merciless act
And chose to ignore the fact.
Today, the equal society we live in
Has around thousand men to pitch in.
But for every thousand of those males,
Exists only 850 females.

The number is dropping as years go by
But we just ignore it and let it pass by.
We need to wake up and see the truth
Female infanticide is still rampant, in urban areas too.
The change needs to be made, one needs to take a call
Stop killing her now or it won’t stop at all.

Will Shiney Ahuja know life behind bars?

Bollywood and crime have always had a strange connection, not only in reel life but also real life. Recently, Shiney Ahuja’s conviction to seven years of jail for raping his maid, made many celebrities cry foul stating that they are being made soft targets and at the same time the common man rejoicing the fact that maybe, finally it is the end of celebrity feudalism.

To be quite honest, yes, many times celebrities are easy targets and at times them being famous doesn’t go in their favour. With people filing frivolous PILs (public interest litigations) over unimportant issues and sometimes the paparazzi going overboard highlighting their scandals to garner more eyeballs, some what justifies their viewpoint. But in the case of Shiney Ahuja, with not much money riding on him, and with not many hit films to his credit, what will one get by framing him and secondly parts of the industry that are vehemently supporting him, will they remember him and if he is released will they give him roles following a bad public image?

Well, that’s a separate issue all together. The question here is this has our judiciary finally agreed on the fact that justice needs to be the same for all, or are celebrities still allowed to be let off the noose.

Going into flashback mode, one of the first few actors to be caught up in the cops tangle was Sanjay Dutt. Being the son of yesteryear actors Nargis and Sunil Dutt, Sanjay Dutts arrest under TADA for owning AK-47 rifles in 1993 was a big blow to the industry. Currently, he is still fighting for his innocence in the Supreme Court against his 6 years punishment. As of now he is out on bail and though he withdrew his candidacy he did wish to contest for the 2009 Lok Sabha elections. However, what about the others who aided him or who were caught for the same offence? Either they are still languishing in jail or have completed their term. But Sanjay Dutt still continues to enthral us with his Munna Bhai acts.

Speaking about the 1993 riots, how can one forget Bollywoods love story with the underworld. Dawood Ibrahim Kaskar, a small time criminal who later became one of Mumbai’s dreaded dons, shifted his focus to the film industry with actress Mandakini. The glamour struck don organized parties in Dubai and Sharjah, which were attended by major Bollywood stars, either due to pressure or out of choice, thus, showing the legal system that he still ran Mumbai even on foreign shores. However, with the arrest of diamond trader Bharat Shah in 2001 and the underworld and Bollywood nexus being exposed, the Mumbai police claim a reduction in the underworld involvement in films. However, what happened to all the actors who were spotted with the don and the producers who made movies for him?

When talking about crime one cannot not talk about Bollywoods proverbial bad boy Salman Khan. The actors first brush with the law was when he was charged with hunting black bucks in Jodhpur. Ironically, he is the only actor who faces the consequences, while Saif Ali Khan and Sonali Bendre who were also accused have been let off the hook. Though he was handed a 5 year jail term in 2006, he has been out on bail since 2007. If that wasn’t enough he was later held guilty for rash negligent driving causing death of one and injuring four people. Though he was found not guilty he still has to stand trial for lesser charges, pertaining to the same case. Ironically, enough we lauded him for his cop act in Dabbangg and speak of him as a messiah due to his Being Human charitable trust.

Even Feroz Khan’s lesser known son Fardeen Khan was caught under the narcotics act. However, a few apologies and a fine set him free in the world of filmdom. But to think of it, if we were ever even suspected of any of these acts, would we have been let loose so easily? I don’t think so. Well, the verdict in Shiney Ahuja’s case has managed to restore some faith in the judiciary and the fact that justice is the same for all, but then again its not like he is a big star.

Well, the least we can do is be hopeful it’s the end of celebrity feudalism and that like Shiney Ahuja we would like it if other high and mighty politicians and bigwigs too face the music.

The power of words

They say the pen is mightier than the sword
There couldn’t be anything truer than this thought.
While wounds with a sword may heal themselves
Words get etched in the memory of the inflicted.
Wounds will bleed and will naturally cover up
The pain felt is then and then gradually leaves without a mark.
Words stay on ringing in the head
Repeating themselves again and again.
Not only has it etched and imprinted itself
But engraves itself deeper as time goes by.
While superficial wounds are forgotten with time
These are refreshed and stay for always in the mind.
Why is it difficult to forgive and forget
Though at times forgiven, there still is that remembrance
The remembrance of that hurt that one word caused
The remembrance of the effect on your psyche and your heart.
Things seem to be normal and life moves on
But the past is there forever and is always brought to the forefront.
Happy memories and words are cherished
But even if regretted, the words which hurt, are remembered with spite and hatred.

The rise of the Zen

Through their small eyes, its devastation they see around
In seconds everything demolished and gone.
As per tradition they stood firm
And bowed their heads to the on coming storm.
Their wrinkled eyes, crinkled further
As generations of hard work crumbled to powder.
But they still stood stoic, and faced the thunder,
With patience, forbearance and profound valour.

The tsunami seemed to have washed away their tears
Just as it did their homes and ones who were dear.
The earthquake seemed to have shaken them off fear
Though it formed cracks within their land and water.
The radiation caused frenzy all over
But within them ignited a spark to recover.

While others looked upon them with sympathy and regret
They took charge, fought and started to move ahead.
While the rest of the world seemed dumbfounded and shocked
They continued living life with a pinch of salt.
What is the difference between us and them
Is it their spirit or their resonance?
Yes, we are human and they are too
But we would beg for sympathy, while damage control is what they started to do
Our vision would be hazy with images of the past,
While they look to the future while resurrecting the past.

Like an epitome of calmness they stand still
The tsunami came but not a tear spilt.
The earthquake shook the entire world
But the Japanese stood their ground and faced the world.
Their sadness and loss knows no bounds
But their silent resistance covers up their wounds.
11 March 2011, could be marked as the fall of the yen
But it also marked the rise and power of Zen.

The toothless tiger

The Shiv Sena was lying pretty low for a while, which was too good to be true. However, true to their image this publicity hungry party decided to tell the people they exist during this cricket frenzy season. One comment from Shahid Afridi saying an India-Pakistan final would be a good watch was enough to trigger of their anti-Pakistan sentiments and for Bal Thackeray to decide if he will allow the Pakistani team to play at the Wankhede Stadium, Mumbai if they reach the finals.

Till Bal Thackeray headed the Shiv Sena, the party did have somewhat a strong hold in Maharashtra. However, after his son Uddhav Thackeray took over the party reins and the formation of the Maharashtra Navnirman Sena (which unfortunately works on similar lines), the party soon became a toothless tiger.

Starting of as a cartoonist for a newspaper the politician Bal Thackeray was given birth to in the late 60’s thanks to the Congress who gave him a free hand to do whatever he wanted to in order to tighten his grip on Mumbai’s industrial unions. At that time too Thackeray was leading an anti-migrant campaign (which he is mostly known for). Though at that time it was against South Indians and Gujaratis and now it’s against Biharis and UPites.

Given the free hand to do whatever he wanted at that time, soon Thackeray considered himself the uncrowned king of Mumbai and promoted his brand of hate politics to such a level that people and other political parties in Maharashtra feared him and were forced to bend down to his flawed policies. However, during his entire political career his main problem was that his issues were never consistent. From the anti-migrant issues it shifted to anti-muslim. Then when that lost steam he went back to the anti-migrant and then the anti-Pakistani rant of his and of course the in between campaigns against western culture especially Valentines Day. The only think consistent about him is the way he communicated his messages – violence, hate speeches, fiery articles and vandalism.

However, things have changed. The party which is supposed to be for the Maharashtrians never really managed doing anything to uplift the Maharashtrians besides changing the names of cities, flyovers etc. All they managed to gain was the peoples hatred and honestly enough is enough with his hate and divisive politics. In Maharashtra, there may still be a few Maharashtrians who look up to him but anywhere else in India, I don’t think his views even matter.

So what does the party do now – resort to eyeball grabbing tactics, all of which have backtracked on him. He first shot his mouth off by slamming Sachin Tendulkar for saying that Mumbai belonged to all. The end result of that he was forced to eat his words. Next he condemned Shahrukh Khan for his comments on Pakistani players playing for the IPL and hence called for a ban on his movie. End result of that – the movie went on to become a blockbuster. Then he opposed Rahul Gandhi’s visit to Mumbai and called it a publicity gimmick, well, Rahul Gandhi at least managed to win the Mumbaikars hearts by bonding with them which the Shiv Sena never managed doing in all these years.

Now coming back to the present, Bal Thackeray has shot himself in the arm yet again by saying he will not allow the Pakistani team to play if they reach the finals. Firstly, he should have thought about this when Wankhede Stadium was decided as the finals venue, frankly not that his opinion makes a difference. Secondly, who exactly is asking for his permission? He isn’t exactly in power and no one really cares about his hooliganism anymore, so what makes him think the people will support him? And if this is supposed to be his idea to prove his nationalist sentiments, then he should realise that by disrupting the finals he will only cause worldwide shame amongst all the cricket playing countries. Lastly, do not mix politics in sports, as a matter of fact any form of entertainment and certainly not cricket. In this cricket crazy country, where cricketers are held at a higher pedestal than any politician, talking about causing problems during the World Cup is akin to playing with fire. This time Maharashtrian or non-Maharashtrian, no one will tolerate it.

So in conclusion, keep politics away from sports, because honestly enough is enough, I think we all have had enough of your hate politics and your parties deteriorating political standing is proof enough for that.